


Cold Winter

by RensSaxophone



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 19:50:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13688610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RensSaxophone/pseuds/RensSaxophone
Summary: a fic exchange for (on tumblr anyways) bbh0406 eyy baby





	Cold Winter

Camus waits impatiently on his pristine white couch, perfectly still, his head turned towards the door. It was nearly three in the morning and his Junior, Cecil, hadn’t returned to the room. After a few more minutes of waiting, Aijima walked into the room at 3:04.

"It’s late.“ Camus’ voice is harsh, "Where were you?” As he continues the annoyance becomes clearer, and it sounds scolding.

Cecil’s words quiver as his teeth chatter together, “O-oh! I wa-as just-”

"Be quiet.“ Camus cuts Cecil off, narrowing his eyes into a sharp glare as he watches the shivering man before him, glancing out at the window. The last time Camus had been outside the weather was certainly heavy jacket weather, and that hadn’t been in the darkness that three in the morning brings. Cecil must have been outside, if he were this cold. "Sit.” Camus commands, standing from the couch he had been sitting on.

"But-“ Cecil begins to argue, before being cut off once more.

"I told you to be quiet.” Camus walks over to the cabinet closer to his bed, but not before shooting Cecil a look that sends the boy, begrudgingly, to the couch. Camus grabs something that Cecil can’t quite see, and as if sensing Cecil’s interest, Camus returns to the couch, holding the object in just the right angle to make it indecipherable. Camus stops behind the couch, and leans forward to drape something over Cecil’s shoulders, and he reaches across the boy’s chest so that it covers the boy’s body. Cecil looks down at the blanket, and a look of mild surprise crosses his face. The blanket was one that Camus used quite frequently, especially with how cold it had been recently. It was a very light blue color and was very, very fluffy. Cecil grabs it with still shaking hands, pulling it closer around him, and he can’t help but notice that it smells like Camus.

Cecil brings his legs up onto the couch, though the cold made him so stiff that it was difficult to do even that, and he pulls them against his chest, bringing the blanket around his legs now, as well, huddling against himself. He closes his eyes with a smile on his face, glad for the heat from the blanket, though Camus is still dissatisfied, noticing the shivers haven’t even begun to stop. Camus makes his way to an area in the room with a kettle and various other things all meant for tea. This was the area of the room Camus was most comfortable with, and that even Cecil had used on occasion. Cecil, having noticed Camus moving, cranes his neck to see what Camus was doing, before putting his legs back onto the ground and starting to get up.

Camus, having started making tea, hears Aijima’s shuffling, and glances over to the couch, and while his face remains hard his voice doesn’t hide his exasperation. “How many times do I need to tell you to sit still?” Cecil lets out a shaky sigh, and returns to his huddled position on the couch. Camus finishes preparing the tea, and carries two cups over to the couch. He sets one of the cups onto a table near the couch, and holds a cup out to Cecil.

Cecil takes the cup with a small amount of surprise, and the tea splashes around in the cups, as the shaking hasn’t subsided in the least. Aijima tilts his head in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing, “You m-made me tea?”

Camus crosses his arms, looking down at the boy. “You left me no choice. You look pitiful. Now, be silent and just drink it.” The exasperation is still obvious in his voice. Camus remains standing in front of Cecil, watching the boy nearly gulp down the warm drink. Camus’ own cup lays forgotten on the table. Cecil finishes the cup of tea, and while his shivers have certainly slowed, they still aren’t completely gone.

Cecil gives a bright smile to Camus, “Thank you!” He moves to stand, to take care of the cup, but Camus takes the cup from the boy’s hands, gives the boy a look that makes him sit down, and takes care of it himself. Camus brings his own full cup of tea with him, dumping it out and cleaning that cup as well. “You didn’t dr-rink yours?” Cecil asks inquisitively once Camus has returned.

"I wasn’t in the mood for tea.“ Camus answers smoothly, one hand resting on his hip. Cecil opens his mouth to speak again, but Camus’ cold look shuts him up. "How are you faring?”

Cecil smiles, and gives a quick nod. “I’m much better. T-thank you!” Camus’ expression makes it clear that he doesn’t believe the boy, as the shivers haven’t stopped completely. Cecil notices that Camus isn’t satisfied, and remains sitting, not in the mood for another reprimand from Camus.

"This is precisely the reason that you shouldn’t have been out as late as you had. You’ve likely made yourself sick, running around outside at this hour, despite the near freezing weather.“ Camus’ fingers drum against his side, his eyes taking in Cecil’s slightly shaking form. He was running out of ways to make the boy any warmer, as the temperature in the room was fairly high already. However, when Cecil shoots Camus a slightly confused look, Camus’ face, which had previously been hinting to what he had been thinking, clears and becomes cold once more.

Camus glances away, towards the wall, and lets out a quiet sigh as he comes up with his next plan to help Aijima. He suddenly walks towards the now bewildered boy, prying one end of the blanket from Cecil’s fingers. Camus sits down next to Cecil on the couch, his hand moving to Cecil’s waist and pulling the boy close to his body with a grip of steel, pulling the blanket so that it covered them both, until his hand touched Cecil’s hand that still held the other side of the blanket.

Camus’ persistence kept Cecil under the blanket next to him until the boy’s shaking stopped completely. However, when Camus noticed that it finally had, he had looked down to see that Aijima’s head rested on his shoulder, and that the boy was fast asleep. "Tch.” Camus shook his head slightly, though not wanting to wake the boy, stays still. Before long, he had fallen asleep himself.


End file.
